You Don't Know Jack
by Uptake
Summary: Barbossa makes the deadly mistake of underestimating Captain Jack Sparrow. Complete.


**Disclaimer: Most unfortunately, I do not own any rights to Pirates of the Caribbean or any of its characters, including Captain Jack Sparrow. Savvy?**

Captain Barbossa leered at the man standing before him, Jack the monkey sitting contentedly on his shoulder. The man, whose hands were tied behind his back, stared defiantly back.

"Any last requests, Billy my boy?" According to the code, every condemned man had a right to speak his mind before going to The Great Beyond. Barbossa didn't always follow the code, as it was more of a guideline than anything else, but on this particular day he was in high spirits.

Bootstrap Bill Turner just looked at him calmly. "Aye," he said slowly, "Indeed I have, Captain."

Barbossa waved a hand. "Then by all means, proceed."

Even though the rest of the crew was gathered about to watch, it was only Barbossa that Bootstrap was addressing. "Jack Sparrow was one of the best men I ever knew. He was a fine captain, and loyal to each and every man on his crew. Dependable, he was, and always watching your back. It was wrong, what you done to him, and if you don't know that now, I imagine you'll learn it in time."

Bootstrap paused, and tilted his head to the side, still looking at Barbossa. Then he said, in a satisfied kind of voice, "My only regret is that I won't be there on the day when Jack Sparrow finally catches up to you and has that pistol of his, with that one bullet you left him, aimed at your heart."

Jack the monkey scrambled off Barbossa's shoulder as he threw back his head and roared with laughter. "So you think old Jack will be back from the grave to have his revenge, do you?"

"Not from the grave, no." Bootstrap surveyed Barbossa with an expression akin to pity. "You're first mistake was leaving Jack Sparrow on that island," he said quietly. "And your second was in not shooting him outright, because knowing Jack as I do, he found a way off that island and he'll be coming for you. It may not be tomorrow, or the day after that, but mark my words. You haven't seen the last of Captain Jack Sparrow."

Upon hearing Bootstrap's words Barbossa had stopped laughing, but a sneer still lingered on his lips. "Jack Sparrow was nothing but a stumbling fool," he hissed. "A drunkard who staggered around drinking rum and rambling on about things nobody else could understand. And I'm telling you now, Billy, that there's not but a chance in hell that Jack Sparrow got off that island alive."

His words seemed to have little effect on Bootstrap, for he only shook his head and smiled softly. "Someday, you'll look back on this conversation and wish you had listened to me. Someday, you'll look back on this conversation, and remember what I told you. Because what it all boils down to Barbossa, is this."

Bootstrap turned away from Barbossa, and stared across the ocean and into the sunset, as if he were seeing something that no one else could see. "You don't know Jack."

ooooooooooooooo

Over the years, Barbossa would sometimes reflect on that last conversation with Bootstrap Bill, and the events that had led up to his inevitable demise. Barbossa hadn't really wanted to get rid of Bootstrap, but it became obvious he would have to shortly after abandoning Jack Sparrow on his little island.

Barbossa could still remember every detail of the day he had been "promoted" from first mate to captain, because for some reason that one memory of his triumph over Jack Sparrow meant more to him than all of his other victories combined. On the day he had acquired The Black Pearl, it had been a beautiful day in the Caribbean, as usual…

_Jack Sparrow stood waist deep in emerald green water looking up at Barbossa, who was standing at the wheel of his new ship, The Black Pearl. Nothing in his expression gave the impression that he was angry or surprised at this mutiny, but there was something foreign in his eyes that Barbossa had never seen before, and it was making him feel a little unnerved. _

_Wanting to get rid of this unfamiliar sensation, Barbossa turned his attention to the lower deck, where a small disturbance was breaking out. Bootstrap Bill was fighting his way over to the side of the ship, yelling. "You can't do this to Jack! It isn't right!"_

_Barbossa was about to break up the commotion, but another voice beat him to it. _

_"That will do, William." _

_The voice belonged to Jack Sparrow. He was still standing in the ocean, swaying in the waves and somehow looking very much at home. All movement had ceased at the sound of his voice, and Bootstrap was able to make his way to the railing. _

_"Jack…" he trailed off, looking both appalled and helpless._

_Jack's indifferent expression gave away to a faint smile. "There's no need for any of that," he said, and Barbossa noted that his voice sounded different. The usual rough voice had changed and become smoother, more confident. "I'll be back, William, so mind you behave yourself whiles I'm away. Look after my ship, matie, and look after your own."_

_Barbossa went down and joined Bootstrap at the railing. "You think you'll be back, Sparrow?" He asked mockingly. "And how might you be planning on getting off this island alive?"_

_Jack slowly turned his gaze from Bootstrap to Barbossa. "I hadn't really gotten that far, Barbossa." He stopped, and his smile suddenly became vaguely menacing. "Or should I say Captain Barbossa?" _

_Before Barbossa could reply, Jack was again looking at Bootstrap Bill. "Good bye, William," he said simply. Then he turned and began wading through the churning waves towards the small bit of land that was now his home. When he was knee deep in the water, he turned around one last time. "I'll be saving this bullet for you, Captain Barbossa," he yelled, gesturing towards his hip belt where his pistol was safely hung. "You can count on that, if nothing else." _

_And not stopping to wonder why that distant threat sent such a shiver up his spine, Barbossa shouted out his orders, and The Black Pearl was soon sailing away from the tiny tropical island, and away from the man who had once been her rightful captain._

On that day, Barbossa had claimed The Black Pearl as his own and stripped Captain Jack Sparrow of his most precious possession. His title. And yet, whenever Barbossa thought of that day, as he often did, he was unable to get the look on Jack Sparrow's face out of his head. It was absurd that Barbossa should be afraid of a memory, especially the memory of a man he had never considered to be a real threat, but he was. He tried to fight his fear by remembering Jack Sparrow as he had when he had served under him as first mate.

From the very beginning, Barbossa had always considered Jack Sparrow to be an incompetent lunatic who tottered his way from one dangerous situation to the next. He could never understand where the legend of Captain Jack Sparrow had come from. Nowhere in Jack could Barbossa find anything extraordinary, anything that might set him apart from other men. All he found was a man who was too trusting to be a pirate, a man so trusting he wouldn't even consider the possibility that his crew might mutiny.

Nobody else seemed to have a problem with Jack, and even Barbossa had to admit he was likeable enough. But being likeable was not what being a pirate was about. Being a pirate was about taking what you wanted with no thought to the consequences, it was about looking after your own interests above all else. And it was about having respect.

Whenever Jack Sparrow walked, or lurched, into a room people were never quite sure whether he had entered on purpose or by mistake. He always had this dazed look about him, as though he himself could never quite figure out where he was or what he was doing. Everything about Jack Sparrow suggested an instability that was not suitable for a captain. That was not the kind of man that should be in charge of a ship such as The Pearl, Barbossa thought. A ship as magnificent as she deserved a captain who could do her justice, give her a real name. Barbossa was that man.

Occasionally, Jack would do things that made Barbossa wonder if his nonsensical speeches and wobbling walk were simply an act, a façade he had carefully created to make others underestimate him. But after considering the possibility, Barbossa always came to the conclusion that he was giving Jack too much credit. The man just wasn't that smart.

At the back of his mind though, this strange suspicion lingered, and this perhaps was why the memory of Jack Sparrow's last words always made him feel a sliver of fear. Of course if was impossible for Jack to be alive. Barbossa had left him on a _deserted island._ Not even Jack Sparrow would be able to pull off such a brilliant escape, despite what Bootstrap Bill had thought. Jack Sparrow was dead. Dead, dead, dead, and he would not be coming back from the grave. He was gone.

ooooooooooooooo

Barbossa froze at the sound of a gunshot, staring at the man before him, who was none other than Jack Sparrow himself. Smoke was coming from the muzzle of the pistol Jack held in his hand, but Barbossa couldn't quite comprehend what had just happened. It was only after Bootstrap Bill's son, Will Turner, announced that Jack had not wasted his one shot after all, that the curse had been lifted, that Barbossa realized what had happened. Jack Sparrow had just shot him in the heart.

In the last few seconds of his life, as the damp coldness of the cave crept steadily over his body, Barbossa remembered Bootstrap's last words, as Bootstrap said he would. Looking at Jack, Barbossa remembered what Bootstrap had told him. "You don't know Jack."

It was a simple statement, and yet it said everything. Barbossa had never really known Jack Sparrow. He understood this as he gazed into the eyes of the man before him. The eyes were dark and unyielding; they told of years of struggle and punishment, and they told Barbossa that in the last ten years, not a second had gone by where Jack Sparrow was not thinking of him and remembering his act of betrayal.

Jack Sparrow stood before him now as an entire entity complete in itself. This was the crucial element of Jack's person that Barbossa had overlooked. The fool façade had fallen away, revealing the man behind it. Gone was the unsteady walk, the hazy facial expression, the slurred words. This man stood straight and proud, his face hard and his eyes sharp. He said nothing, but his silence said it all.

The cold had completely taken over Barbossa's body. He leaned forward, staring intently at the real Jack Sparrow. "I feel…" he paused, a surprised look on his face. He had intended on saying something to Jack, he didn't know what, but the ability to feel again had pushed all other thoughts from his mind. "Cold," he finished. Then he fell backwards, and everything faded away into nothing. He was dead.

The man called Jack Sparrow, or Captain Jack Sparrow, as he liked to remind people, continued to look at Barbossa's fallen body. This man had taken away everything that had once meant something to him. He had seized his ship, stolen his title, and killed the best friend he had ever had. Now Barbossa was dead, and the only thing that Captain Jack Sparrow could think about was all the time that had been stolen from him, the decade out of his life that he could never get back.

But it was over now, and there was no use thinking about things as they should've been instead of as they were. He, Captain Jack Sparrow, had finally gotten revenge on the man who had nearly broken him, the man who had very nearly taken his life. Maybe he couldn't forget the time that had been pilfered away from him, but he could learn to let it go.

And in the end, that was all that mattered: What a man could do, and what he couldn't do.

**A/N: I need another disclaimer. The words, "I feel cold," were taken from the movie. Don't sue me, porque no tengo dinero. Muchas gracias.**


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